


You'd Set A Fire in Me

by nobetterlove



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Bottom Will Graham, Dark Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, M/M, Married Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Murder Husbands, POV Will Graham, Smut, Will Graham Has Encephalitis, Will Graham Helps Himself, Will Graham Knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 19:55:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30094314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobetterlove/pseuds/nobetterlove
Summary: As unexpected as the uniqueness and flat out irregularity of the doctor’s wardrobe, long arms wrapping around him was the last thing that Will thought would come from his comment. Yet a warm chest and the rhythmic brush of nimble fingers up and down the nobs of his spine affirmed Will’s suspicion that Hannibal Lecter really did pull him into a hug. Will’s arms stayed at his side for a second upon realization before he was quick to raise them and reciprocate.It didn’t take much for Will to melt into the embrace once he gave in; the sheer stress of the day and the admittedly lovely quality of Hannibal’s hard chest made a killer combination. Their height difference allowed him to rest his face into Hannibal’s neck. His cold nose pressed into unreasonably warm skin and one of Hannibal’s strong hands found the back of his head, encouraging the move.They stood there, tangled up like vines, for what felt like both milliseconds and years all at once. Hannibal muttered ‘it’ll be okay’ over and over again, his restless thumb making an unknown pattern through the same length of curls with each mumbled phrase.OR - The 5(+1) in which there's 5 times Hannibal surprises Will & one time Will shocks them all.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 7
Kudos: 202





	You'd Set A Fire in Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I did a bit of reading over my spring break and got inspired by the 5(+1)'s that I encountered - so I took the idea and applied it to our boys. 
> 
> I thought the concept of Hannibal catching Will off guard was an interesting perspective to look at, so here we are. I had a good time writing this - I hope you enjoy it just as much! 
> 
> Of course, I found some inspiration from the depth of my Spotify library & listened to Wake Me by Bleachers the entire time I worked this one out. Check it out if you're up for something excellent.

i.

In the grand scheme of things, Doctor Hannibal Lecter felt like a breath of fresh air from the very start. 

For the few seconds Will spent not being completely offended by Jack’s rude (and admittedly entirely too effective) ambush, he felt a glaring nothingness coming from the intricately polished doctor. Most minutes of the day Will was ambushed on all sides with everyone else’s emotions – it felt good to escape it for a brief moment. Staring back at a blank screen instead of chaos resulted in a much-needed break. 

Then Hannibal had to go and ruin it with his dead-on analysis of Will and his deepest, darkest, most secret worries and wants. Like he took a direct pathway into Will’s brain and dug around until the good stuff came to the surface; Hannibal Lecter had him interested from that moment on. Begrudgingly and without true recognition, of course. 

And that wasn’t to say he wasn’t skeptical of him – in his own experience, people ended up being right about their suspicion of him and his infernal weirdness that screamed awkward and alone. Understanding the nuances of others came with a price, one that usually took its payment in form of isolation, loneliness, and a general uneasiness that followed, no matter where he went. 

The kinship he immediately felt in the oddness of Hannibal’s presence came to him like pins and needles – his skin prickled and his mind sharpened. Whatever the doctor had to contribute; Will couldn’t wait to find out. 

Despite the intense aura of mock disdain that followed their initial interaction, Will didn’t hesitate to let Hannibal in his hotel room door when he miraculously appeared in front of it too early in the morning on a tense business trip to Minnesota. In the same way that Will’s uniqueness radiated in the form of palpable anxiety, Hannibal carried his like well-polished charm that simply oozed from him. His cheeks quirked at all the right moments, his words deflecting where they should – in fact, the impeccable nature of it was almost too good. If that wasn’t enough, he brought fresh food (that turned out to be better than delicious) and strange metaphors that were curiously helpful. 

Swept up in thoughts about mongooses and a weird spark of fire that lit in his belly at Hannibal’s tone of voice when he told him to finish his breakfast, Will made his way through the first couple of construction company searches. The hollow feeling of a dead end kept the small talk to a minimum, and when Hannibal did turn to ask a question, he soaked up the information and let it rest. Though they didn’t have much success yet, Will wasn’t upset with the work. In his police years, he did worse things with way inferior people. 

Upon walking into their third and final location, Will immediately couldn’t shake the feeling of something being off. Like the blood hound he was, he put his nose to the ground and let Hannibal talk their way into looking at employee files and records. Impatiently, Will sifted through them, looking for the something that seemed to be niggling at him at the very edges of his instinct. File after file, he came up with nothing – until the innocent looking lack of an address set off all sorts of warning bells in Will’s head. He shifted a little, brushing his shoulder into Hannibal lightly with the movement. It was entirely accidental, but considerably more welcome than he cared to admit. 

Brushing the thought aside for later perusal, Will tapped on the missing address line. “Do you have an address for Garret Jacob Hobbs?” Will tilted his head as he spoke, the sound of his voice a surprise to everyone in the room. Aside from a brief introduction, he hadn’t spoken since walking into the little trailer. The secretary got over the shock first, babbling about a database and to hold on a minute.

In their closeness, Hannibal leaned into him, the smooth accent of his voice making Will jump a little. “What’s so special about this one?” Hannibal asked, looking over his shoulder at the relatively normal file. The ghost of his breath kept Will coiled tight, the urge to lean back into the rugged smelling warmth getting greater by the second. If he let himself lose any sort of control, he wasn’t sure what might happen. 

“He left the address blank,” Will answered simply, his finger still tapping on the empty line. In the next second, the woman returned her attention to him, snapping Will out of the little trance sucking him in deeper by the second. He let out a small breath he’d been holding as he stepped forward (out of Hannibal’s addictive orbit) and grabbed the handwritten post-it from her outstretched hand. Nodding his thanks, Will made an offhanded comment about the box of files, grabbed the first few within his view, and scrambled out of the office. 

Up until the drive over to the Hobbs’ residence, Hannibal’s presence was soothing. Yet, while eating up the miles on the Minnesota highway, Will felt so much tension. The intensity of it made it hard to distinguish his own from Hannibal’s. On top of apprehension and excitement, Will felt a thorough enjoyment in the depth of his gut, the delicacy of which he only indulged in when he couldn’t hold it back any longer. It didn’t take much to understand that it radiated from the doctor like sweat from pores. In their brief acquaintance, Will felt little in the empathetic collective, and now – he couldn’t escape it. The hunt, the chase, the last piece of the puzzle coming together – Doctor Hannibal Lecter delighted in it all. 

The usual shame that always followed and came from a different part of Will’s center didn’t rear up the way he expected. Instead, the steady thrum of rightness made an appearance. He did his best to shut down the locks on the walls of his forts to differentiate himself from Hannibal, but felt the feeling there, too, alone in the depths of his own emotions. Processing the immensity of that took the whole drive and when they arrived, all hell broke loose – obliterating the easy silence between them like a nuclear explosion. 

And despite the easy comfortability and delicious food and ten fired bullets and blood fucking everywhere, Will still wasn’t all that surprised by the man until the end of the day, when flashing lights and black body bags weren’t in the proximity any longer. In the many hours since shooting and killing Garrett Jacob Hobbs and subsequentially watching his daughter bleed out on a tacky hardwood kitchen floor, Will hadn’t washed himself off, or even removed his blood-soaked glasses. When he felt able to breathe again, an acute sense of overwhelm threatened to drown him if he even thought about moving. 

He was motionlessly waiting for Jack to finish up his conversation with whatever police officer and take him back to the hotel when he felt Hannibal’s calming presence next to him. He too was covered in blood, the tan of his sweater now stained brown from hours’ worth of drying and crusting into the fabric. Though they didn’t know each other well, Will could tell that the dark bags under maroon eyes were uncommon and so glaringly telling. It’d been a trying day for everyone.

“Are you okay?” Hannibal questioned, breaking the still silence of the surrounding night air. Without the crowd and news cameras that dramatic crime couldn’t help but attract, the area was peaceful – Will understood the appeal without question. 

Pulling in a long breath of air, Will attempted to school himself. Though he was failing, the effort was valiant. After shooting a man to death and enjoying it, then watching the life fall so quickly from an innocent, Will’s defenses were close to shot. He forced his arms to stay still and not cross over his chest despite so desperately wanting to – for whatever reason, he didn’t perceive the need to put anything between himself and the doctor, there was no barrier needed. The thought stuttered in his brain for a second, pushing the truth from his mouth without conscious control. 

“No, I don’t think so.” Will’s voice was hollow, robbed of the many emotions that crawled across the yard they were in just hours before. There was nothing left, and Hannibal felt safe enough to admit that to. 

As unexpected as the uniqueness and flat out irregularity of the doctor’s wardrobe, long arms wrapping around him was the last thing that Will thought would come from his comment. Yet a warm chest and the rhythmic brush of nimble fingers up and down the nobs of his spine affirmed Will’s suspicion that Hannibal Lecter really did pull him into a hug. Will’s arms stayed at his side for a second upon realization before he was quick to raise them and reciprocate. 

It didn’t take much for Will to melt into the embrace once he gave in; the sheer stress of the day and the admittedly lovely quality of Hannibal’s hard chest made a killer combination. Their height difference allowed him to rest his face into Hannibal’s neck. His cold nose pressed into unreasonably warm skin and one of Hannibal’s strong hands found the back of his head, encouraging the move. 

They stood there, tangled up like vines, for what felt like both milliseconds and years all at once. Hannibal muttered ‘it’ll be okay’ over and over again, his restless thumb making an unknown pattern through the same length of curls with each mumbled phrase. Will kept his arms looped loosely around Hannibal’s waist, the entirety of his body pliant in the doctor’s hold. 

There was still much to learn about the foreign doctor – the idea of the man’s complexity actually deepened with every new moment they spent in shared presence. The tenderness in which Hannibal held him was a true surprise, his touch so soothing where a harshness laid in wake for the right prey. Will didn’t need to be an empath to know that gleaming perfection hid something behind the shine of it all. 

Will was still learning what stood in the dark of his own mask’s shadow – the thought of Hannibal fighting the same fight was more intriguing than fear inducing like it should’ve been. In his isolation, Will learned the impact of influence and knew without having to think hard about it, how easy it could be to follow the owner of the warm arms around him like the puppy he truly was. 

The clatter of the Hobbs’ door finally slamming open and then closed with Jack’s departure from the house pulled them apart, Hannibal’s hold loosening with a final brush of a long thumb over the plane of Will’s cheek. His skin felt warm from the touch, charged and stimulated from the smallest of caresses against territory last charted so long ago. Will wasn’t able to stop the shy smile from playing across his face; a hole in his stomach opened upon realizing that Jack got to see it, too. He was quick to pull it back, but not before Hannibal nodded at him in understanding. 

Packed with many twists and turns, the day didn’t turn out at all the way Will pictured it. As he drifted between the headlights and the back of his eyelids in the front seat of Jack’s car, Will let the surprise of Hannibal wash over him – the delicate greatness of it an intriguing distraction from the dust stirred up from the day yet to settle. 

\---- 

ii. 

For the first few weeks after the Hobbs trauma, things shifted and bent into an interesting form of a new normal. 

Following the inappropriate cascade of clapping that met him in his classroom, Will wanted to forget the whole thing already – the feelings that accompanied him around and the notoriety (both good and worrisome) his actions got him. Like most things, Will didn’t get his way – Jack commended him, ordered a psych eval, and urged for a hurry up and wait return to active duty in the field contingent upon Lecter’s recommendation. 

Begrudgingly, Will couldn’t fault the overall logic; Hannibal was there and knew about the situation and its fallout almost as well as Will himself. Though he made it seem like a hardship, Will walked into Hannibal’s office without much of a fight. 

As the weeks passed, Will found a firm grip on his new routine of teaching class, being pulled from said class, and perusing the latest crime scene thrust before him – mainly because of his interactions with the good doctor. In a world where everyone wanted to treat him with fancy kid gloves, Hannibal saw through the vulnerability of his condition and touched upon the deeper portions of Will’s mind – connecting to them eerily well. Their conversations were like puzzles, each new interaction slotting the pieces together in their twisted way. It wasn’t usual, the ping-pong back and forth between himself and Hannibal, but it worked – Will’s perception of balance was as fine-tuned as ever. 

Which is why it became very obvious when shit started to hit the fan. For once in his life, Will’s mind was in tune with the rest of him and the strange disturbances to normality flickered like a light bulb a few seconds away from burning out; each warning sign compounding in its reveal. It started with severe sweating and nightmares that felt so real it was difficult to decide when sleep ended and waking began. When the sleep walking started, Will turned to the only person he trusted for the slightest semblance of direction. 

In the early part of the morning after warming his feet up and trying to categorize what in the hell actually happened throughout the night, Hannibal answered Will’s knock on his door in a black silk robe, the ties of it dangling elegantly by his lean sides. The pajama set underneath was perfectly matching and just the slightest bit sleep rumpled – the wrinkle in the fabric really the only sign that the doctor slept in them at all. 

The straw blonde-almost gray hair that was usually meticulously styled lay in disarray over Hannibal’s forehead and admittedly never looked better. If he didn’t spend the wee hours of the night walking around barefoot and completely out of his mind, Will might’ve let the warmth of the picture Hannibal made heat him from the inside out in so many enjoyable ways. 

The effort it took to push that thought away really drove home the point of the rogue nature of his brain. His growing crush on the psychiatrist was something he dealt with on a constant, almost daily basis. A sense of control existed where the gorgeous doctor was concerned, and yet, his brain ran away with the distraction of his baser thoughts, regardless. Thin lips and the slight slope of a perfectly formed nose called to him more than ever – his sleepy mind and untouched libido trumping his sense of authority over the usual wants and needs coursing through him.

Whatever ailment was overtaking him eventually made it easy for Will to forget his bodily cravings, however – in fact, the haze of it made the time in Hannibal’s kitchen fly by in the most unrecognizable way. Memories of the time didn’t exist. Like he blinked and the day took off without his permission, Will found himself at a crime scene several hours later, instead of the well-decorated stainless steel of Hannibal’s sacred lair. The usual group was gathered around, obviously waiting for Will to work his magic. 

Sweat beaded along his forehead, his body was warm and the confusion of losing time made it even more impossible to regulate his body temperature when the realization settled. The breaths in his chest felt heavy and with every rush through the breathing cycle, Will felt more panicked. With all of the death surrounding him and emotions flying all over the place, he couldn’t find himself in all of the madness. Looking around wildly, Will noticed Hannibal off to the side, obviously cataloging everything happening around the crime scene. In a healthier state of mind, Will might’ve found that interesting. 

Instead, he stumbled over to the doctor, his focus solely on walking straight and getting to him in one piece. Will didn’t even take into account the crime scene around him; luckily missing most of it as he trudged blindly across dry grass. When Hannibal was within reach, Will tried to grip his shoulder, his mouth moving without any words coming out. He could see Hannibal looking at him oddly and the man’s lips creating words in return, but nothing registered. Whatever was happening, Will quickly lost all control over his facilities. 

In the next moment, Will felt the world tilt slightly and an encroaching darkness overtake him. The last thing he remembered was the feel of strong arms wrapping around him, Hannibal’s warm touch just barely recognizable through the cloudiness of his feverish ailment. 

With a stiff rush of air dragged into his lungs, Will blinked awake a little while later. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room – he’d been out of it for hours if the lack of sunlight cascading around the place said anything. In his perusal of the environment, Will noticed he was wrapped up in his own comforter, the feel of flannel sheets and rogue dog hairs under his palms unmistakable. As the seconds passed, Will regained himself a bit, small details and little things coming back to him in a slow crawl. 

The lack of wet noses pressing against him for attention had Will sitting up slowly, his head a little less muggy now that rest forced itself upon him. Running a hand through sweat crusty hair, Will about jumped out of his skin when the sound of footsteps on his hardwood floor registered. He gave the long strands a grounding tug, then looked around with a little more intent. A blue and gray plaid stripped suit was the last thing Will expected to see – the unique outfit’s owner was wrapped in Will’s BBQ apron, happily humming to himself in front of the stove, stirring something on one of the burners. 

The rush of delightful surprise that settled into the middle of Will’s chest was filled to the brim with so many emotional stimulants. In all of his fancy words and smooth looking suits, Hannibal’s domesticity stood out like a sore thumb. Yet, in the same breath, Will thought he never looked more natural. In a similar way that Will belonged in the water with a fishing pole in his hand, Hannibal just meshed with the surroundings of a kitchen, whether it was his own or the rag-tag put together of Will’s setup. He let himself quietly watch the doctor for a moment before mimicking a cough to get the man’s attention. 

Hannibal turned towards him after a couple more circles of the spoon around a pot that was obviously not Will’s. His shoulders pinched for a second, like the detachment from his food was a physical hardship – then they relaxed, and he turned smoothly towards Will with a soft wrinkle of his cheeks. In their short friendship, Will recognized the move as the smile it was. Will returned it with a smirk of his own, sitting up a little straighter all the while. 

“You’re up. Good timing, my friend. The soup is just about ready,” Hannibal remarked, motioning over his shoulder at the stove. His eyes were bright, the tangible joy of being exactly where he was a little dizzying. 

“Soup?” Will asked, pulling in a deep, inquiring breath to take in the scent of salt, thyme, lemon, and white onion. The savory umami of meat finished off the olfactory goodness, Will’s brain and empty stomach were now glaringly aware of the exemplary food being cooked less than twenty feet from him. Smile growing from a satisfying rumble of his stomach, Will relaxed a little, closing his eyes to savor the feeling. “It smells good.” He stopped, waited a beat, then looked over in Hannibal’s direction again. “Where are the dogs?” 

Before the doctor could answer, a soft timer sounded. Hannibal turned, elegantly tore off the apron, and rhythmically started to spoon out the soup into the deep blue bowls Will kept on his counter. In his brief artistic rebellion in college, he threw them in a pottery class and felt too proud of the end result to ever get rid of them. Hannibal’s nimble fingers supported the dry clay with his soft touch (as if he knew of their sentimental value), spilling not a drop of soup down the side of them. After placing a large slice of lemon on top of each bowl, Hannibal set them aside to cool, the tray in which they rested now obvious in all of its decked-out glory. 

Hannibal’s intention to serve him soup in bed made the whole scene a little sweeter somehow – Will’s awake status didn’t seem to curb the plan, either. 

“Your dogs are outside,” Hannibal replied after fiddling with the silverware and wine glasses. The wooden tray in which everything sat did not belong to Will, its richness and high quality too much for the chaos that always surrounded the Graham household. Despite sticking out so glaringly, the man and his fine goods seemed to fit somehow – like the juxtaposition of their existence made the most sense. 

“When you didn’t regain consciousness right away, it took great effort to convince Jack that I could provide the same services that a paramedic could. I thought I might save you the emergency room trip and brought you back here. Your pets are very loyal, they were extremely concerned – the drama of carrying you in the house was not lost on them,” Hannibal continued, his words colored with mirth. He carried the wine and glasses over to the small bedside table next to Will’s bed while he spoke. “It took a few pieces of fresh sausage and a group sniff of your unconscious body to win them over. But when I returned after a quick trip back to my home, not one blinked an eye at my reappearance.” 

A laugh bubbled its way out before Will could stop it. He gripped the wine Hannibal poured for him just seconds ago to stop the nervous babble that threatened to follow in its wake. “Even they aren’t immune to your amazing cooking,” Will remarked in hopes of covering his awkwardness. “Now that they’ve accepted you, you’ll always be welcome.” 

Looking up, Hannibal stopped what he was doing to catch Will’s gaze. The usually stoic cheeks twitched, Hannibal’s lips lifting a bit more than routine. “And does that welcome extend to their owner, as well?” Maroon eyes were unblinking, taking Will in as each word entered the space existing comfortably between them.

“Of course.” Will said the words without thought, blushing instantly at the raw truth of them settling in his belly like the gospel they so obviously were. His cheeks were on fire, the heat warmer than the feverish burn from just hours before. “You swept me off my feet and made soup,” Will added, stuffing his nose into the wide rim of the wine glass in his hand to stop himself from blabbing further. He wasn’t sure if it was the discombobulation or the sleepiness, but his filter was not intact and Hannibal’s ability to bring the honesty from him didn’t help. 

There were a few silent moments where Hannibal seemed to revel in Will’s words. His movements were a little more chipper as he carried over the tray with their food and pushed Will’s serving towards him. Leaning more fully into the headboard, Will positioned himself to avoid maximum spillage and grabbed his bowl with carefully grateful hands. The smell alone was enough to make him feel twenty times better – his eyes closed against the satisfaction of the quality olfactory excellence washing over him. He knew that Hannibal would watch him until he took a bite, so he swept up a good portion of it onto the wide spoon, blew lightly, and slipped the serving into his mouth with an almost instantaneous moan of happiness. 

“You made me chicken soup,” Will correct himself a couple of spoonfuls later. The heat of the broth and acidity of the lemon mixing with the chicken made his core feel the best kind of warm – the lingering feeling of fever was chased away for the moment. Grinning at the thought, Will let himself watch Hannibal in return. 

A soft snort through Hannibal’s nose sounded at Will’s comment, the delicate manners of the man making it impossible for even that to seem less than refined. He pushed the black chicken in the broth around for a second before glancing up, meeting Will’s eye with the slightest hint of red gracing those sharp cheek bones. Hannibal hesitated another second longer before dipping his head in a subtle nod. “Yes.”

Though he still wasn’t sure what was wrong with him, or how his body would react in the weeks to come, Will relished in the surprising comfort of the moments with Hannibal across from him – each rich bite of homemade soup and stolen look between them like the thrum of something new and exciting coming to life. 

\---- 

iii. 

The following weeks, despite Will’s best efforts, did not bloom a steady recovery. Quite the opposite, in fact. Things were becoming concerning and his disassociations were almost as tangible as the real world around him. Not being able to distinguish one from the other made working crime scenes and presenting information to functioning students progressively harder. Will was a couple of episodes from breaking down and trying his best not to show his desperate hand. 

A couple of weeks after his embarrassing fainting episode, Will stood under the high wattage of Hannibal’s energy conserving light bulbs, his head throbbing with lack of sleep and a progressively rising panic. His hands were buried in the pocket of his vest when Hannibal stepped into his space. Their conversation trailed off and the recognizable huff of a deep breath being pulled in made all sorts of thoughts rush through Will’s head. Unable to discern them, he pinched his eyebrows together, turning his head ever so slightly. 

“Did you just smell me?” Will asked, the pitch of his voice high with the slightest hint of surprise. 

He felt Hannibal stiffen, the man’s obvious attempt at being stealth aborted. The feeling seemed to pass, because a big hand palmed the span of Will’s hip. Hannibal tucked his nose into the back of Will’s neck and pulled another long breath in, the audible nature of it answer enough. Will felt delicate fingers tighten, and then a long exhale against the exposed skin of his cheek and shoulder. “Can’t be helped,” Hannibal mumbled, flexing his hand in its hold against Will’s hip. “I think you should see a doctor.” 

The trance of long inhaled breaths and the soft rise and fall of Hannibal’s chest against his own was broken, Will turned in Hannibal’s grip, questions galore etched into his face. 

“What do you mean?” Out of all of the things rummaging through Will’s brain, that one felt the most pertinent. 

“Your smell has changed,” Hannibal answered, pulling back enough to catch Will’s eye. “I once smelt cancer on a professor. Trust me – there’s something off.” In the span of the words leaving his mouth, Hannibal moved his hand from Will’s hip to the sharpness of his stubble covered jaw. His thumb traced across the line of Will’s beard; a look of concern etched in Hannibal’s expression. 

Closing his eyes and leaning into the touch, Will stood still for a second. In the whirlwind of losing his mind and trying to keep everything together, the world moved by him at the speed of light. Hannibal’s touch was grounding and his suggestion made sense when he slowed it all down. Regardless of the fact that his friend got odder by the second, Will wasn’t above listening to an expert. He let the doctor’s touch linger, then blinked his eyes open. “So, what happens next?” 

In all the moments of rising insanity over the last few weeks, Will felt grateful for his mental detachment throughout the process of getting into the MRI machine and drifting through the loud noise of intricate technology dissecting his brain into miniscule slices of high-quality images. He drifted around the hum, Will lost in barely lucid thoughts that broke the barrier of time. The scan flew by without Will’s recognition. After getting out and hobbling back to the exam room, there was just enough time to work himself out of the borrowed hospital gown and into his own clothes before Hannibal and his former colleague Doctor Sutcliffe knocked determinedly on the door. 

The look of smugness on Hannibal’s face shouldn’t have started a pool of heat in Will’s stomach, but he found himself enjoying the pride etched into the doctor’s expression as his suspicions were confirmed. Will’s change in smell was brought on by Anti-NMDAR Encephalitis, an autoimmune response that caused an antibody reaction to the NMDA receptors in his brain. Will’s body attacked itself by the way of swelling and signal disruption. By the end of his description, a smile plastered itself across the neurologist’s face. 

“After a steady course of treatment, you should see a significant decrease and overall cessation of the severe neurological symptoms.”

And though the treatment didn’t sound all that invasive, Will knew from the in-depth list of medical procedures and rest prescribed that getting through it on his own was going to be a doozy. Hannibal seemed to read his mind, the doctor’s nimble fingers finding his in the slightest brush of skin on skin. The touch was meant to be reassuring but felt teasing instead. Hannibal’s eyes were watching him, the man obviously glad to have Will’s attention back on him. 

“You won’t be alone,” Hannibal said softly, proving his point by taking the seat next Will’s bed when the group of nurses got him setup with a couple of different IVs filled with the needed drugs for his first course of treatment. When Will’s hand was free again, Hannibal took it without missing a beat. In the cold of the room, Hannibal’s palm felt like fire against him. 

Will couldn’t form words, so he squeezed Hannibal’s hand tightly, hoping his touch displayed the gratitude he felt. 

Over the course of the first couple of weeks, Will wasn’t cognizant enough to really appreciate Hannibal’s effort. The regiment of treatment was aggressive and kept him tired from the second he got up to the blessed minutes when he fell asleep after hours of sitting around waiting for medicine bags worth of drugs to finally do their thing. The fatigue masked the clarity, making it hard to see the change at first. 

Three weeks or so into the treatment, Will started to see the fog dissipate. Throughout the entire length of his treatment so far, Will didn’t have to deal with Jack Crawford, or Alana and her poorly masked inquiries upon his health and wellbeing. His fridge was also filled with fancy Tupperware and each of the dogs was bathed and well taken care of. Will, in his perpetual tiredness, didn’t so much as lift a finger to make that happen – which meant Hannibal did and continued to do so without a word. It took Will three clear days to really understand Hannibal’s effort. 

Despite wanting to jump for joy at all the attention, Will sat on the information he gathered. Though they were getting closer by the day, Hannibal was still someone relatively new to Will’s life. In the sense of time, they didn’t know each other at all – but when Will looked at comfortability and desire to be near, it felt like Hannibal’s presence was a permanence and always had been. The imbalance of feeling to reality made it difficult to understand why Hannibal did what he did. What was the end goal? And when it revealed itself, would Will be prepared for the fallout?

Unable to stop himself an afternoon a couple of days after his clarity of realization, Will grabbed Hannibal’s hand on the bed, holding it tightly between both of his. “Thank you,” Will mumbled softly, timing his words to the light brush of his thumb across and over the back of Hannibal’s hand. 

Hannibal’s brows pinched tightly together, his facial expression much more telling than the man’s words ever would be. Will watched him try to relax the look and get a grip on the situation, but it was moot in the end – the efforts just made him look a little more adorable than he already did. Biting into his bottom lip to stop a grin from manifesting, Will forced himself to wait patiently for Hannibal’s next move. 

A light squeeze of his hands and Hannibal shifting was Will’s only answer for another couple of minutes. Though he didn’t break eye contact, Will let his eyes rove all over the doctor in front of him, his self-proclaimed casual attire (of suit pants and a sweater), his shiny shoes, his well-styled hair, even the press and pull of thin lips as Hannibal thought and contemplated the horrid question of ‘what happens next’. It seemed like Hannibal looked and absorbed all of the time, it was about time Will returned the favor. 

The delightful accent Will came to appreciate over the last few weeks broke the silence a few minutes later. Like every time he listened to the doctor talk, Will sat a little straighter; the need to focus more pertinent when Hannibal spoke than anyone else. “Whatever for?” Hannibal cleverly settled with, finally looking Will square in the eye. Throughout the weeks of his treatment and care, Hannibal provided for him on an almost secretive level – talking about it made Hannibal’s actions more real, not just for Will but the doctor, too. 

“Being here,” Will started with, pulling on Hannibal’s hand until the man had to move forward to accommodate the tug. Now a little stronger, Will could sit up straight without his head spinning – he too shifted until they were close, the height of the bed Will sat on the only true space between them. “For taking care of me. I haven’t cooked or listened to a Jack Crawford call since my diagnosis. I see you, Hannibal. And appreciate you.” Will finished his little spiel with a quick move and the barely there press of his lips against Hannibal’s cheek. The skin there was surprisingly stubbly, despite the smooth appearance – like all things with Hannibal, the contrast was a delicate and all too right juxtaposition. 

Will wanted to keep his eyes closed when he pulled back but forced himself to look – to see Hannibal’s reaction and finally know. Will’s gut told him that Hannibal saw something in him, in them, and stepped up the way he did because of it. Darker, less attractive parts wanted to pin the effort on shadily complex plans – but naivety and hope kept them from breaking through to the surface. Will wanted Hannibal to want him; no strings attached. 

Whatever he expected, Will was taken off guard by the quick withdrawal of Hannibal’s hand from his own – then surprised even further when that same hand palmed Will’s cheek; the touch reverent. Hannibal looked at him for a time, his maroon eyes seeming to bore so deeply into Will that no secrets remained in the sanctity of his head. It felt flaying and freeing all at once. 

“You missed,” Hannibal replied finally, letting the length of his thumb brush across Will’s cheek. 

Dumbfounded, Will trailed his tongue along his bottom lip, his eyebrows pinching together in confusion. “I what?”

The coveted cheek pinch made its appearance as Hannibal leaned forward and brushed his nose across Will’s, their lips just inches apart. “I said, you missed,” Hannibal reiterated, each word ghosting across Will’s lips in the foreshadow of a kiss. The real thing followed a second later, Hannibal slowly closed the remaining distance between them. Eager lips pressed together and melded into the perfect sync and tilt of humans who kissed often, not those experiencing their first taste. Will gasped at the sensation, the rightness of Hannibal’s lips on his own the ultimate trump card to whatever game they’d been playing. It couldn’t be denied now, how well they seemed to fit. 

When they reluctantly pulled away from each other, Hannibal lingered in Will’s space, his nose brushing against cheeks and chin and kiss sensitive lips. The words, when he whispered them, shifted the world a little – “it’s my pleasure, Will.” 

Caught up in each other and the newness of being able to touch and feel, Will got swept away in the delightful surprise of Hannibal’s feelings and their tangible manifestation for the rest of his appointment.

\---- 

iv. 

Like most things with Hannibal, shifting from friendship to dating was smooth – easy in a way that nothing else in Will’s life ever was. Hannibal’s accommodating personality didn’t flex or change when they welcomed each other into their lives romantically; in fact, he seemed to bear down and get a little more obsessive the longer they were together. Though Will knew that type of behavior was dangerous, he liked it – being taken care of so thoroughly and attempting to return the gesture. No one let him get to this point before, where he could give and contribute in the same way he took and received.

As silly as it sounded, Will appreciated the fact that being with Hannibal required work. He wasn’t naïve to think that his own personal demand for it diminished over time – sharing that characteristic between them just drove home their rightness one step further. The effort it took to deal with Hannibal’s strict timeframe and even stricter attention to detail was what he wanted to put forth into the universe. It felt good – learning another human being and making the right adjustments to best suit them both. 

And on top of how easy the transition into dating the doctor truly was, Will thoroughly enjoyed the time they spent together. In the development of their friendship, Will feared he might be bored during the activities that Hannibal deemed worthy of his time. Where he thought the man was all opera and quiet nights by the fire, Will was proven wrong time and again by the wide variety of things Hannibal Lecter liked to take part in. The opera and symphony were all on the list, there was no mistaking that – but long hikes and obscure science museums made the cut, too. There were so many intricate bookstores and local art spots that Will wasn’t aware of until Hannibal the adventurer showed him all sorts of hidden gems. 

In their time together, Will knew and understood Hannibal’s ability to not only keep someone on their toes, but to stay surprising, too. It wasn’t hard to see that half of Hannibal’s fun came from the ‘see what happens’ of well-placed words and subtly given demands and suggestions. Hannibal was a word smith and took obvious pride in the games he could play with those that didn’t quite understand that point. Those that did got to share in his enjoyment, regardless of the train wreck being carried out in front of them. 

That didn’t stop Hannibal, however, from playing with those he deemed worthy. Even Will, who podiumed much higher than most of Hannibal’s collection of intriguing people, caught the brunt of maniacal manipulations every now and again. He left out little details about their night out with friends or put Will in a position he never would’ve thought to be in without Hannibal forcing his hand. And for the most part, they were relatively harmless. 

Will usually enjoyed Hannibal’s surprises, even the ones that blew up in his face. 

He learned that the hard way a few months into their relationship. 

After a tough week of long nights surrounded by case files and crime scene photos, Will walked into Hannibal’s house with an added pep in his step. If the murder gods were good to them, the weekend belong to him and him alone, and Will planned to spend his moments of freedom with the good doctor (hopefully naked and moaning for most of them). The kiss he received at the door drove home the excellence of the situation – Will felt like nothing could get him down. 

Then the reality of his thing with Hannibal hit him upside the head.

They shared a couple of glasses of wine while Hannibal fiddled around the kitchen with his latest culinary creation. Will enjoyed watching Hannibal cook and appreciated it even more so when the wine bottle emptied, and his boyfriend loosened the reins of control. A few buttons made their way out of the holes at the top of Hannibal’s shirt and those lips – they curved into genuine smiles and took on the murky redness of the wine passing across them. The word tantalizing came to mind whenever Will saw Hannibal like this – pliant and actually enjoying the minutes passing them by. 

Pouring the rest of the bottle into his own wine glass, Hannibal looked up with a soft blush on his face, the slightest bit of regret for Will’s empty one showing in the wrinkle of his brow. Hannibal shook the bottle at Will, laughing lightly. “You must work for your refill,” Hannibal said, pointing past Will towards the cellar door. In their months of dating, Will never set foot on the stairs there, let alone the room down at the bottom of them. The novelty of it all had him out of his seat, drunkenness forgotten. “The wine cellar is to the right of the stairs. There’s a hanging light switch that will illuminate all the shelves.” 

In his haste to further explore more of Hannibal’s home, Will nodded thoughtlessly at the man’s words, the bulk of them not actually registering as he shot down the steps. Instead of turning right at the bottom of the stairs, Will curled to the left, running his hand along the wall until he stumbled into a light switch. Though he didn’t find one, Will ended up uncovering something much more interesting – his finger snagged across the all too familiar feeling of a tying hook and when he pulled his hand away, the seep of blood from the prick wound couldn’t be mistaken. 

Hastily, Will dug into his pocket for his phone, using the flashlight app to illuminate the room around him. There wasn’t much space, but what did exist was filled with boxes – all of which cleverly covered a large door at the back of the room. He forced himself to deal with what was right in front of him, however. In all of his wildest dreams, Will never imagined a collection of his lure tying and fishing equipment in the bowels of Hannibal’s home. Everything was there, piled into a handful of containers along the wall – the hooks and string, his magnifying glass and clamps, even the pole he thought he lost so many months ago. 

Footsteps coming down the stairs had Will looking up, a desperate sort of expression on his face. Hiding his discovery wasn’t an option. There still wasn’t much light in the room, so it took Hannibal a second to hone in on what was happening in front of him. Maroon eyes went wide and for a singular moment in time, Will thought the doctor was genuinely thrown off guard. “Will?” Hannibal asked, raising a hand as if to reach out and touch. The expression on Will’s face must’ve been severe, because Hannibal dropped that hand as quickly as he raised it. 

“What is all of this?” Will questioned in reply to Hannibal’s thrown off plea. His pupils were constricted enough now to see the whole collection in front of him in intricate detail. Though it was gutting to think about, Will suddenly understood that Hannibal had everything he needed to make the perfect criminal out of him. And like that – all of the pieces suddenly fit. The profile, Hannibal’s unimaginable understanding of the crime scenes and their victims. His odd dishes and use of organ meats. Even the prim and proper rage he felt around Cassie Boyle’s corpse made sense. 

Hannibal was a murderer – the copycat, the Chesapeake Ripper, and probably dozens of other media frenzy names of recent killers. And at some point, he planned to pin it all on Will. 

“How long have I been your scapegoat?” Will spat out, the control over himself snapped to pieces now that he truly understood – truly saw Hannibal for what he was. Funnily enough, the impulse to deck Hannibal across the face came from the betrayal of trust and not the resounding fact that his boyfriend, the man he loved (but hadn’t told yet) was a notorious murderer and regularly fed him other people. For some reason, that didn’t seem to bother him. A small part of Will always knew, anyway – perfection didn’t exist and the shiny polish of Hannibal Lecter… it had to be hiding something. 

“When did you decide to pin your crimes on me, Hannibal?” 

For such a verbose man, Hannibal looked at a loss for words for much longer than Will could ever recall seeing. His posture stayed straight, the hands at his side completely unmoving, In his worst thoughts, Will wondered how many ways Hannibal thought about killing him in that brief moment of silence. When he moved, Hannibal did so only to cram his hands into his pockets – Will knew that to be one of his nervous gestures, so at least the man appeared to be sweating their upcoming conversation. 

“I never truly made the decision,” Hannibal replied softly, talking down at his feet in as submissive of a gesture Hannibal partook in. His answer was bull shit and the look proved it. With all of his infernal wisdom, Hannibal continued. “At the beginning, when I saw the complexity of your mind, I thought I could use it to my advantage. That first weekend I watched your dogs, I took everything.” 

Right from the start, then, Will thought to himself, gripping his phone a little harder. The light was useless now, every glance at the collection of what used to be such precious belongings turning his stomach. Mortification overtook him, the horrendous feeling souring the taste in his mouth a little further. Between the stomach acid and deep-seated embarrassment, Will wasn’t sure he’d ever truly taste right again. Deception left a bitter reminder.

Dipping his head to his chest, Will thought to start talking, but was stopped by Hannibal’s accented voice. 

“I’m sorry, Will,” Hannibal admitted, a serious lack of anything but regret tainting his words. “Things between us were never supposed to become what they are. You and your uniqueness are everything to me. I’ve never fallen for another the way I have for you.” 

Will snapped his eyes shut, unwilling to keep his eyes on Hannibal any longer – leave it to The Ripper to confess love in such a fucked-up situation. All the professional bones in his body wanted to dial the appropriate numbers and solve the mystery once and for all. Jack would finally have his boogeyman and the negligent citizens of Baltimore could sleep safely once again. Yet, every other piece of Will’s being knew and understood and so desperately wanted to reciprocate the gesture and fill the space between himself and his wild beast of a soulmate. 

“Are you still planning on using any of this?” Will settled on, shifting his weight from one foot to the other to stop himself from running into Hannibal’s arms. He’d been so wrong in his blind trust of the man, that much was obvious. The carefree nature in which he followed Hannibal’s every whim was no more – Will needed to be smart, despite the absolute certainty in which he knew leaving Hannibal really wasn’t an option. 

Regardless of the fact that Hannibal was walking over hot coals, his long legs carried him the few scant feet of space so that they were just inches apart. Fingers that smelt of lime and cilantro gripped Will’s chin, forcing blue eyes to look right at him. “No. It would be like gutting myself.” Hannibal paused to increase the drama, their eye contact tense. “I love you, Will.”

Surprise and disbelief and an odd sort of anger warred through Will’s head, not in succession or one at a time, but all at once – the emotions were like colors bursting behind his eyelids, each one just as vivid as the other. He forced himself to suck in a long breath to categorize everything in hopes of answering, or at least not melting like a puddle to the floor below from system overload. Hannibal watched him with patience, the doctor more than aware of his cocktail of sensory overload. Hannibal’s fingers holding him snuggly and the heat of his chest were just as noticeable as the throb of hurt still alive and thriving in Will’s chest. There was so much, and yet… 

“You have a crazy way of showing it,” Will whispered after his thoughts settled. He closed his eyes and slumped forward, giving in to Hannibal’s touch.

With a long sigh and another tight squeeze around his chin, Hannibal leaned in to press their lips together, the kiss light in nature, despite the hardness of his touch. 

Like a smack to the head, Will recognized it all as the perfect mess Hannibal truly was – Doctor Lecter embodied an eclectic collection of thoughts, ideas, hobbies, and talents. Each one was unique and outwardly strange but mastered with utmost grace. And in combination, they made him dangerous – a walking surprise just waiting to slowly be exposed. 

Amongst the chaos and scattered debris, Will only saw Hannibal – and he wasn’t ready to stop uncovering him piece by piece. No matter how perilous it proved to be. 

\---- 

v. 

Though Will couldn’t (and honestly didn’t care to) make sense of it, things seemed to get a whole lot better after his realization. Unlike Pandora and her box, opening up Hannibal’s secret chest of drawers worked like a cheat code on a difficult level. Will thought he got a lot from Hannibal in their time together, but he quickly realized just how much his monster truly kept back. The world got to see a buttoned-up version of the doctor that enjoyed the finer things and only partook in the best. Will’s all access pass to Hannibal Lecter: The True Chronicles opened up the door to so many new things. 

Each discovery felt like opening a present and digging into the contents to find something Will never would have thought to ask for. Hannibal without barriers loved to sleep in and go for long runs that ended with a sweaty cannibal draping himself over Will’s sleeping figure. He delicately complained about the people who went into his rolodex (which Will ignored with vigor). The kitchen opened up and comfort food, Louisiana delicacies, and Will’s favorite desserts graced the dining table. Hannibal prescribed to gluttony and proceeded to share his spoils with Will on any occasion possible. 

In all of his discoveries, Will appreciated the ones tied to Hannibal’s physicality the most. 

To say that their physical relationship wasn’t fulfilling before Will knew the truth would be blasphemy. In every way that Hannibal could excel at something of interest, he did – and sex was no exception. His artistic hands pulled responses and feelings out of Will that shouldn’t be possible. Hannibal searched and mapped and explored to find all of Will’s spots and he used his knowledge to his advantage. 

And yet, Will felt a shift in Hannibal’s touch, nonetheless. In previous encounters, the slightest hint of hesitation was now obvious. For a man that knew the human body so well, he touched with a certain caution. Now, Hannibal let go of the boundaries of selfishness and control, taking and giving and reading both their minds in the complex routine of his hands over, under, and between them. Where Hannibal wanted before, he worshipped and revered now. 

In all of the surprises delivered by the good doctor, Will appreciated the adoration of his lovemaking exponentially. It seemed that like most humans, Hannibal partook in sex before because nature told him to. From an empathetic standpoint, it wasn’t hard for Will to see. When the walls crumbled, Hannibal approached their connection from a whole new perspective. And though that was true for every aspect of their relationship, he took it to a whole new level in their joint pleasure.

A quiet night a few months after Will’s discovery, they were lounging on Hannibal’s king-sized bed, lazily indulging in the big screen Will convinced him to add to the room. Like most of Will’s contribution to their quickly intertwining life, it stuck out in a way that just fit. A competition cooking show played in the background of a serious necking session that started with the sudden realization that Will wore Hannibal’s shirt throughout the day. 

The garment in question lay on the floor where Hannibal dumped it after thoroughly sniffing the fabric to “categorize their combined scents”. The dark color against Will’s skin drove the doctor mad throughout dinner and brandy in the study. Will’s naughty decision to put it on post shower might’ve played a part in Hannibal’s desperation, too, but he refused to feel bad or even acknowledge the manipulation (he was owed a few after Hannibal’s shitty behavior). Though they debated what was going to be on the screen, things quickly melted into Hannibal’s hands roaming over Will’s skin, peeling the sweater off with hedonistic satisfaction. 

It quickly became impossible to focus on anything but the hard grind of Hannibal’s hips against him and the not-solid-enough touch on his skin. Despite having sex so frequently, Will still found himself astounded by every novel encounter. Hannibal pushed him to a fresh height or touched him somewhere undiscovered and the world shifted again. That feeling made it intense, each and every time. 

By the time the show changed, Hannibal had them both shirtless and writhing on the bed in a desperate attempt to get and feel and touch – more, more, more. Hannibal’s lips were hot across Will’s bare chest, tongue and teeth and stubble playing second fiddle to his long kisses and hard sucks. The lack of hair on Will’s chest made the purplish-red of Hannibal’s marks stick out against the paleness of his skin. Will looked down to see him admiring his work. 

“I like seeing them, too,” Will said softly, running a hand down the long line of hickies until he could grip Hannibal’s fingers. “Your marks look good on me.” 

Hannibal groaned then, clenching Will’s hand in his own and grinding his hips down to emphasize his own enjoyment of the topic. “If you truly knew what you did to me, Will Graham,” Hannibal remarked, suddenly in a hurry to make quick work of their pajama bottoms and boxer briefs. 

It didn’t take long for all of their clothes to hit the floor and Will to find himself face down on the bed, desperately trying not to grind down into the mattress below him. Hannibal’s hands were on Will’s hips, holding him lightly, his grip there only to direct him back when Hannibal felt the need for it. There was lube on the bed between Will’s thighs, though Hannibal was working Will over with his mouth and tongue, so his skin was plenty wet. Like the true sensualist he was, Hannibal nipped, licked, sucked, and tongued at his rim and around his walls when his clever tongue managed to press inside. Spit and groans and fingertips on skin made the whole experience other-worldly. 

Impatience and the siren call of Will pushing back into Hannibal’s touch had the doctor three fingers deep within him in no time. Every time Hannibal thrust his fingers in, he moaned in time with Will, like his touch was stimulating him too – like Will’s pleasure was his own and the simple act of giving drove him to the brink in its simplicity. Will was babbling and close to the edge when Hannibal finally gave into his own need. 

Draping himself over Will’s back, Hannibal used one of his hands to guide his rigid cock to Will’s entrance, while the other gripped his hip and pulled him back into Hannibal’s one long, entering thrust. Will groaned at the intrusion, his muscles were still and unyielding for a second before he felt himself relax and give in. He moaned Hannibal’s name and pressed back, asking for whatever the other had for him. 

One of the best things about their pairing resided in the opposites each brought to the table. Will’s ability to feel and Hannibal’s control made their coupling into a never-ending thing when they let it. If desire didn’t overrun them from the start, pleasure went on for hours and hours, both of them driving things up and pulling back, pushing their connection to the extreme – and this time wasn’t any different. 

Hannibal delivered every thrust like it was planned, each of them slow and hard – obscene in their accuracy and rightness. He traced Will’s skin and kissed across the nobs of Will’s spine, taking the pieces he willingly gave to Hannibal time and time again. When they were like this, Will found it easy to let go and actually feel – in all of his years before Hannibal, Will didn’t understand just how much he truly numbed his own feelings. With Hannibal, he stripped bare and found himself; the physical body and the built-up person composed of all his parts, not just the good ones. 

Will shifted until his knees were under him, the move bringing Hannibal more fully against him. He got his balance on his right hand and used the left to reach back, his fingers sliding into the fashionable disarray of Hannibal’s sweat soaked hair. “Love you,” Will said, letting the words into their little world for the first time. He felt Hannibal’s shudder and the quick inhale – then everything abruptly stopped.

A noise of surprise left Will’s mouth a moment later when he was suddenly turned onto his back – Hannibal didn’t give him time to readjust, he easily pressed back into Will like neither of them missed a beat. Will wrapped his legs around Hannibal’s hips on instinct – his body was more than aware of Hannibal’s cock and its effect on him in every way imaginable. With his ass in the air like it was, he felt a brush across his prostate and the teasing slap of Hannibal’s balls against him nonstop. If the combination weren’t enough, Will couldn’t fault the view before him – as Hannibal got close, his brows drew together and the ability to English flew out the window. Mylimasis and mano meile joined the chorus of Will’s name when that little death took hold. 

With an arm wrapped around Will’s shoulders and the other on his hip to make each thrust even deeper than the last, Hannibal brought them both to a mind-blowing orgasm, the symphony of moans and names and skin smacking against skin enhanced each tender roll of pleasure across Will’s entire being. Hannibal set a fire in him, both with his release and the impeccable take apart and put together job he did on Will with well-placed touches and feelings that made nothing else truly matter. 

Panted breath and a sweaty forehead rested against the sensitive skin of Will’s neck, Hannibal nuzzled into him as endorphins rushed and collected and pooled into a glorious comedown. They were sticky and covered in each other, their chests rising and falling in perfect sync. Will kept his arms wrapped around Hannibal’s shoulders, reveling in the connection and the surprising lack of invading emotions that truly made his experiences with Hannibal a true gift. 

In the weird way things that shouldn’t work between a man of the law and justice’s worst nightmare do, Will and Hannibal fit perfectly together; their connection like fading into each other. When an ending and beginning were indecipherable, did anything other than the joint creation they made together truly matter? Despite Will’s knowledge of the surety of that, he found himself completely surprised by Hannibal and the man’s tangible proof of it every chance he got. 

A soft kiss against his neck brought him from his thoughts – Hannibal’s fingers were playing through his curls, distracting maroon eyes staring at him. “I love you, too,” Hannibal whispered when he finally caught Will’s attention. 

Smiling, Will cupped Hannibal’s cheek, using his touch to pull him down until he could kiss him lightly. He knew the textbook definition of what Hannibal might be described as and fought hard against it – how did a person like Hannibal look at him as if he hung the moon without truly feeling the emotion? He didn’t – and each reminder acted as the perfect surprise to prove to Will exactly that. Pulling away from the kiss, Will kept him close, sharing breath. 

\---- 

(+i).

For a couple of years, Will got to keep his balance upon the tight rope that he walked. After the swelling in his brain subsided and Will found his equilibrium both with himself and within his relationship with Hannibal, crime scene reading and profiling easily became second nature. What he saw affected him greatly, there was no denying that – but Hannibal’s presence helped guide him back to that shadowed light in which he existed the most efficiently. Dining with darkness and learning how to navigate Hannibal’s twists and turns made him feel invincible, no matter what followed him back from his readings. 

On top of hitting a professional stride, Will and Hannibal made things official between them. To the surprise of no one, Hannibal proposed in the middle of a tense case – his timing almost perfect in the distraction it created. In his time staring at the shiny white gold of the band, Will found the answer to their questions and effectively put all the pieces of the case together like they were right in front of them all along (they were). Will wasn’t sure if Hannibal knew what he was doing, or if the man simply lived that impeccable of a life. 

Whatever it was, Will happily hitched his wagon to the Lecter name. They celebrated with their friends from the BAU and a small selection of their mutual acquaintances from dinner parties, symphony attendances, and museum openings. Instead of making a fuss about the ceremony, Will convinced Hannibal to really do up the food. The Justice of the Peace at Baltimore’s courthouse sealed the deal for them, then they ate like kings. Though a slew of late night’s followed Hannibal’s harvesting, Will didn’t mind the extra work. Once he got past the idea of his close friends dining on Hannibal’s delicacies without actually knowing what they were eating, Will found himself able to excuse pretty much everything else. 

Of course, Will knew the ease in which he worked his job and Hannibal continued with his extracurricular activities would come to a screeching halt. There were only so many times Will could explain away a recognizable marker that fit the profile he created, but masterfully led them away from when he realized how well Hannibal truly fit it. In his efforts to look conspicuous about it, Will attempted to play off his sudden shift, but something about it must’ve always sat wrong with Jack – he never quite let it go. 

It didn’t help, either, that Hannibal delighted in his never-ending campaign to mess with Jack Crawford as much as possible. They constantly had the man over for dinner, the dishes served to him getting cheekier by the social engagement. Where Hannibal found himself settling comfortably, Will watched his superior start to put the pieces together one by one. It was Hannibal’s design, after all – to reveal himself when the time was right. Despite Will’s loud protests and constant push back against the idea, Hannibal did what he wanted – and did so with the utmost of dramatic flair. 

Small things cued him into the quickly approaching precipice of their remaining time in Baltimore. Little things started to disappear around the house, those heirlooms and knick knacks that Will knew Hannibal couldn’t live without. It was odd until he found arrangements for the harpsicord and a very expensive storage unit not even in the country or in either of their names. In customary Hannibal fashion, Will assumed his husband would keep him on his toes until the very last minute – but Will was too smart for that now. After getting burned by Hannibal’s plans at least once before, contingencies and his own scheming went down far more often than Hannibal probably knew. 

In the same way that Hannibal shaped and formed things to his whim, Will categorized and plotted with all of the information spread out before him. The benefit of social awkwardness, even with Hannibal on his arm, was the large space that people gave him. That space allowed him to step back and watch, taking in all of the details of everyone present, his husband and those around him, included. With Jack increasingly sniffing around and Hannibal making moves to secure their next lot in life, Will buckled down and made a plan of his own. Getting caught off guard this time around would be disastrous – freedom and their continued enjoyment in life were on the line and Will wasn’t about to play a game of chance with happiness. Not when he just started to figure out what it all meant. 

When Jack started to pull away from him, Will knew things were finally coming to a head. In all of his years standing by Jack’s side, Will was amongst the first to know when new details came in and further research was needed. Instead of long nights sifting through files, Jack sent him home with nothing more than a few words of dismissal, despite Will knowing how much work needed to be done. Hannibal’s latest streak of kills took on a brutal intensity and made piecing everything together extra difficult. Jack must’ve found something, however – his avoidance of both Will and Hannibal spoke volumes. His boss knew as well as anyone else that rescheduling on a Lecter-Graham dinner was practically forbidden, but Jack did it, anyway. 

Hannibal handled the snub with grace, which made Will even more apprehensive than Jack’s behavior. Watching from the sidelines, Will thought to ask what Hannibal’s next moves were, but stopped himself – their marriage came with an honesty that was raw and tenderly navigated through. If Will questioned, Hannibal answered without boundaries, filters, or cares in the world. Between intricate details and long-winded explanations, Will learned when to ask and when to let things play out. Since there wasn’t the sour taste of panic wafting in the air when Hannibal was around, Will thought it best to wait and see.

Throughout all of the stressful tango happening between him and Hannibal and Jack and the rest of the BAU, nightmares made their way back into Will’s subconscious. Despite their content, they weren’t terrifying – instead, they lodged doubt and disaster into Will’s thoughts, pulling him out of sleep from the raging intensity of apprehension that met him at every turn. As crazy as it was, he trusted Hannibal and knew, without question, that his husband’s actions would take care of them. Jack, however, played the wild card whenever he could. Without having any sort of idea what they had or where the agent was coming from, Will worried incessantly over Crawford and the mess he could make. 

A particularly rough dream woke Will from his light sleep for the fifth time in his attempt to sleep throughout the night late one November night. Knowing that sleep wouldn’t come for him again, Will pressed a quick kiss to Hannibal’s cheek and quietly climbed out of bed. When they moved in, the dogs were gifted a heated and fancily furnished dog shed that housed them during the evenings and when they were at work – so his descent down the stairs was as stealth as it could be. Since his sickness, sleep was harder to come by. Getting out of bed and moving around was the only way to cure it but waking Hannibal in the process was never on the agenda. Hannibal’s grasp on control was not always accessible in the middle of a broken-down REM cycle. 

Regardless of all of that, Hannibal still found him downstairs a little while later. Will had a small lamp turned on and a newly stoked fire in the fireplace – the calming ambience was the only thing keeping him from escaping into the depths of his head without a clue as to when he might make it back out again. There were too many things to plan for and react to – disappearing for a while was the last thing the Lecter-Graham’s needed. 

Hannibal approached him like a scared animal, his footsteps light and absent of as much sound as possible. He made his presence known, then pressed a weighted hand to Will’s shoulder. Though he didn’t have the same sense of smell that Hannibal did, he couldn’t miss Hannibal and the delicate musk of him – not when he spent so much of their time together trying to remember everything about him, his spicy scent included. 

Turning his head, Will caught Hannibal’s eye, the brightness of gorgeous maroon shining, despite the lack of light. Will could just barely make out a soft crinkle of the doctor’s cheeks and inquisitive look in the dip of his brows. “Couldn’t sleep?” Hannibal asked, shifting his hand from Will’s shoulder to the short hairs at the base of his neck. 

“Not tonight. My brain is too busy,” Will replied after a beat, leaning into Hannibal’s touch without much thought. There were so many things left unsaid between them, details and next steps, but Hannibal never ceased to speak with his hands and fingers; so many words were said with the simplest of caresses. With this touch, Hannibal recognized his worry and saw its effect. 

“Wake me, next time,” Hannibal said softly, gripping and massaging at Will’s skin, even as he circled the edge of the couch to sit down next to him upon it. A long arm was flung over the back of their tan leather seat, the move Hannibal’s clear invitation to sidle up and settle in next to him. Will waited a beat, thinking about the probability of getting back to sleep in Hannibal’s arms – then suddenly realized that it didn’t fucking matter. Whatever was coming their way, Will wanted to fight against it to keep this – Hannibal’s arms around him with the doctor’s particular brand of love seeping out into the air until Will knew of nothing else. Decision made, Will tucked himself into the space Hannibal made for him.

“Next time,” Will agreed, resting his head against Hannibal’s chest. 

The next time Will blinked, the sun was steadily shining through the window of the study. Hannibal’s head was reclined back against the couch, both of his arms wrapped snuggly around Will’s body. One of Will’s legs was slung across Hannibal’s lap, the two of them taking up such a small amount of space in their tangle, despite the huge size of the couch. Things were peaceful for the first time in a while. There wasn’t much hope of the bliss sticking around, so Will clung to it while he could. 

After a long breakfast and slippery sex in the shower, Will left to teach his two classes of the day. The tranquil feeling he left the house with swept him through the day – which set off so many warning bells. Not a single thing passed across his door, no Beverly or Price, no students or Jack – the silence was irregular and all kinds of thought provoking. He planned to stay behind after his last class of the day to grade, but something in his gut told him to head home.

Everything started to make sense when he pulled into their driveway and had to pull up behind Jack Crawford’s car. Will hastily parked, got out and did a quick circle in hopes of spotting where the rest of the crew was. He took a couple more turns around before deciding that Jack was in the house alone. Walking through the garage, Will’s heart started to pound when he passed by Hannibal’s Bentley. A part of him wanted to catch Jack in the act of snooping around their home or something, but Hannibal was twenty steps ahead of him (like always). 

Light from the kitchen shone through the open garage door. Will followed the beam of it and found an absolute mess in the usually pristine kitchen. Untouched food was on the counter, the cutting board half-filled and in disarray a good indicator that Hannibal was interrupted. Making his way through the scene, Will kept his wits about him despite the strange silence. There was so much chaos everywhere – he expected a whirlwind to follow in its wake. Crunchy glass and what looked like red wine led him into the dining room where the real fun was. 

Jack had Hannibal at gunpoint, both of them battered and bloody from the moves that made the craziness in the kitchen. Hannibal’s right eye was swollen from the large gash across the smooth skin of his cheek. There was a steady stream of blood along Hannibal’s face and neck, the majority of it pooled on the collar of a striped white shirt – its fabric so dark it looked black. Will tried not to react, but the sight put him on edge. 

“How long have you known?” Jack asked, breaking the heavy silence. Jack’s eyes were trained on Will, the grip on his gun loosening ever so slightly. Though he kept his glance glued to Jack, he didn’t miss the swift nod of Hannibal’s head. Two steps stood between Will and freedom. There wasn’t enough time to fight Will off and pull the trigger. He only needed a second. 

“Longer than you, I’d imagine,” Will remarked without missing a beat. It took everything in him not to shift to the balls of his feet in preparation. 

His words had the desired effect, each one like a verbal belting across Jack’s skin. It shouldn’t have been shocking, finally understanding just what Hannibal meant to Will. On the other hand, Jack hadn’t truly taken the time to actually KNOW Will. His interest revolved around Will’s usage. And no matter the secret Will kept, he could close the space between who he was and who he wanted to be knowing he used his mind and obsession with Hannibal to help people. It didn’t negate anything, but no one could take that away from him. 

Until the very end, Jack assumed Will would be on his side. The look on Jack’s face when Will lunged forward and pulled him into a stronghold was of Earth shifting surprise and an astounding disappointment. With his arms wrapped so tightly around the agent, Hannibal had no problems pulling the gun from Jack’s hand. 

Hannibal’s beast snuck through the cracks – both fists rained down on Jack’s face repeatedly. The sound of flesh splitting and bone breaking was loud in Will’s ears as he held tight and tried to stay out of the fists’ flight path. Waiting until Hannibal had his fill, Will shifted his grip, wrapped his hands around Jack’s neck, and snapped it – the sound so much like a twig his stomach clenched.

That look of disappointment was permanently etched on Jack’s face, his unseeing eyes wide in the shock that remained. The slump of Jack’s body topped off the beautiful mess scattered around the room. All the tiny details told their own story and would narrate the night for his former friends as they dissected it – all while asking where they went wrong. How could Will turn his back on justice after all this time? 

Looking up to see a radiant smile on Hannibal’s face, Will saw the answer to any of the questions so many people were going to ask. There was beauty in the darkness, and he got to linger in it every moment he spent in Hannibal’s presence. And though their lives in Baltimore were concretely over, Will couldn’t wait to see what awaited them next. Knowing Hannibal, it was grandiose and filled to the brim with good food, fine wine, amazing sex, and more of this – coming together beside a body they took down together. 

Strong hands were pulling him into an embrace before Will could process anything further. Hannibal’s arms were so tight around him and his heart slammed so hard against his chest, Will felt it like it was his own. There was a hum running under Hannibal’s skin, the excited energy of it tangible. 

“What a surprising boy,” Hannibal purred a second before their lips met. 

A surge of satisfaction slipped down Will’s spine at the comment, his lips tingling from Hannibal’s touch and the sheer enjoyment of finally feeling at home with himself while the world as he knew it burned down around them. 

What eventually crawled out of the ashes, even Will couldn’t predict.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for sticking around, friends! 
> 
> I may write something in this verse from Hannibal's POV (if enough people are interested) - let me know what you think in the comments. 
> 
> Love you all <3


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